Fall For My Ex's Mafia Dad novel Chapter 79

“Good, Fay! Good!” Jerome says, his voice eager and encouraging.

Kent’s trainer couldn’t come on short notice, so Jerome is putting me through some exercises on the horse. He watched me ride a bit and then told me – to my surprise – that I’m too reliant on the reins.

“You hold onto them,” he had said, smirking at me, “like the handlebars on a bike. Like they’re going to keep you from falling off.”

I had frowned at him. “Well,” I said, hesitating. “Aren’t they?”

Jerome had laughed, looking up at me from his place on the ground next to Heathcliff. “No, Fay,” he said. “The best riders barely even use the reins. You’ve got to learn how to communicate from here.”

With that, he’d shocked me by smacking my thigh.

Jerome hadn’t noticed my surprise, though, instead moving to Heathcliff’s head and unbuckling his bridle, replacing it with a halter – a head harness that has no reins at all. Then, he attached a long, long lead rope to a ring on that halter so that we could do some exercises without reins.

So now I’m bouncing around arena as Heathcliff trots in circles around Jerome, who stands at the center, the end of the long lead in his hand.

It was scary, at first, not having anything to hold onto. Jerome even made me put my arms out to the side like a bird, to make me avoid clinging to Heathcliff’s mane for safety. But then, as I got the hang of it, I started to understand what he meant.

I really had been holding on to the reins for dear life. But really, it was all about balance and holding on with my legs and my knees.

My arms still out to the side, I shoot Jerome a happy look and he laughs, pleased to see me catching on.

“Well done, Fay!” He shouts to me. “Can you kick him into a canter?”

I hesitate, not sure if I want to go faster. Jerome, seeing my hesitation, laughs at me derisively. He doesn’t quite call me a coward but…well, it’s implied.

“I’ll teach you anything you want,” Jerome says, coming close to Heathcliff’s shoulder and smiling up at me. “Pretty girl like you, though?” he says, raising his eyebrow, “you should learn how to barrel race. That’s what all the rodeo beauties do, and they make good money if they’re fast enough.”

His smile deepens as he sees me blush. I’m not used to being told I’m pretty. I have to admit though…I didn’t hate it.

“What’s barrel racing?” I ask, studying Jerome’s face as he explains the process of girls competing to see who can be the fastest to run a loop around two barrels and return to the start.

Jerome’s a good looking guy – older than me, but only by a few years, with sandy brown hair and a light smattering of freckles over his nose. He’s strong-jawed and, like most of Kent’s guys, quite fit.

I stop hearing what he’s saying as I look at him more. Does he really think I’m pretty? Or was he just saying it as a joke?

Suddenly, Jerome’s smile deepens as he realizes that I’m not paying attention to a word he’s saying. That I’m just staring at his handsome face.